Requital and Unrequited
by LTP-girl
Summary: Connie and Mike's professional relationship reaches a new level when they deal with an infatuated stalker making advances towards Mike.
1. Chapter 1

**I thought it would be interesting to see what it would be like if Mike was ever to have a stalker. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of 'Law & Order.' Nor do I own Prada, 'Shop Girl' or 'Boston Legal.' The characters Rachel, Sarah, and Carlos are mine.

Category: Connie/Mike, Mike/other

Rating: PG

Note: 'Shop Girl' spoilers

Requital and Unrequited

By LTP-girl

Rachel worked as a waitress at the Barrister Barista, a small coffee shop, not far from the District Attorney's office. She liked it there, the atmosphere was quiet and serene, and her customers, who were mostly lawyers, were usually friendly and polite. She knew that it was strange saying that about a small bustling New York business, but that's how she found it. The physical surroundings were also peaceful, the lemon-meringue walls detailed with soft blue vines, and the polished floorboards shining. Gentle music, with blues like numbers, played in the background, and the sweet scents of gardenias and roses filtered the air. This could be more than said for the dreary and miserable weather outside. But, the new array of flowers imported from California that had been put on display gave the illusion that spring was just around the corner.

She had just finished loading the coffee machine when _he_ walked in.

She turned to face the counter to take his order. "What can I get for you this morning, Mr. Cutter?" she asked shyly.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I'll take a long black, and a skinny latte to go, thanks Rachel," he replied in his Boston accent.

"Long black and a vanilla latte," she repeated writing it down on a note pad.

He paid her the money, and he was surprised to see her blush. "Keep the change," he said flashing his pearly smile.

She put the money in the cash register, and then prepared the coffee.

"How's law school, Rachel?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence between them.

"It's going quit well," she answered, pouring the hot liquid into paper cups, then covering them with plastic caps.

"That's good," he answered. He took the coffee from the counter and left.

Rachel's friend and co-worker, Sarah, approached her from behind. "You've got a thing for that Michael Cutter, haven't you?"

Rachel whirled around to face her. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid with me," she answered smugly. "I saw the way you looked at him. And ever since he first walked through that door, it's always been Michael Cutter this, and Michael Cutter that."

"It has not," she defended, leering at him from the corner of her eye, as he walked up the street. "He's just some guy I know."

Sarah laughed. "Yeah, just some guy you know," she replied sarcastically. "Didn't seem that way the other day when you couldn't stop talking about him."

Rachel removed a box of change from a shelf beneath the counter, and placed coins and notes in their right places into the cash register. "I had a bad hangover that day, that's all."

Sarah picked up her cup of herbal tea she had been drinking. "What I'm saying is, if you really like him, you should make a move. You never know, you might end up pretty well off together." She dunked the teabag before taking a sip. "This friend of mine has been with her college professor on three years now."

"No way, I would never do something like that," Rachel replied melancholy. "Michael Cutter is _way too old_ for me. Anyway, I've always suspected that he and that brunette he works with might end up together."

"He's hardly jail bait anymore," she reasoned. "And if you do consider it, he may be able to pay for your tuition, and then you'll never have to work in this dump ever again."

Rachel looked out of the shop window, gazing at the slender man opening his black umbrella as he crossed the street.

***

Mike removed his jacket and threw it on the couch.

_What a day!_ He thought to himself.

First he skidded and fell backwards in the rain and spilled five-dollar coffee all over himself, and then his umbrella turned inside out and broke in the wind.

He nearly got shot, again, in the restroom.

The defence attorney for that day's case thought his client's trial wasn't until the week after, and didn't turn up.

His car's battery had run flat, and he had to take the subway home.

The train he took stopped to a halt, and he fell on some snippy social worker from child protection, who then gave him a nasty shout-down about sexual harassment.

And now, he had just scuffed a new pair of Prada loafers on the stairway up to his apartment.

Except for Rachel from the coffee shop giving him the eye, he had a pretty crappy day.

He went into the kitchen and reached for the scotch he kept in the top cupboard, and poured himself a glass.

He heard scratching on his kitchen window.

_What's that noise? _

He peered out of his window, but nobody was there.

_Must be the rain_, he thought to himself. _Either that or I'm going crazy_.

He felt his blackberry vibrating in his pocket, and dug it out to answer the call.

"Hey, Connie," he answered.

"Hey Mike, I've just been over those briefs for the Harley case, and you know what? I think with that new evidence that Bernard and Lupo have found, it's going to be pretty slam dunk," she informed him. "They've found that the finger prints on the crow bar found at the crime scene match those of Mark Harley. They've also found a broken fingernail stuck in the victim's neck, which also matches the suspect's DNA."

"That's great," Mike replied, feeling a little better. "Finally some good news. I guess that attorney not turning up has its compensations."

Connie laughed. "Remember Mike, some things happen for a reason."

"Oh, you're not trying to get me into that religious bullocks, are you?" he half joked.

"Well, some things do happen in this world that even we can't explain," she continued.

Mike heard more scratching outside his window again, and turned around to investigate, now half listening to what Connie had to say.

"There's that noise again," he said to himself, puzzled.

"What noise?" Connie asked.

"Oh, nothing. There's just this scratching outside my kitchen window," he explained, looking out his window a second time, but seeing nothing. "Hm, must be just tree branches." He shrugged it off.

"That's strange, I didn't think you had trees near your window," Connie piped up.

"Well, birds then," he defended. He was now feeling slightly uneasy.

"What, do you think you have a stalker?" she stifled.

He couldn't help but hear her muffled laughter from the other end of the line. "Well stranger things _have_ happened," he said. "You know Rachel, that girl at that coffee shop? She blushed at me this morning."

"Don't worry, Mike, I'm sure every second girl in New York is lining up to get between the sheets with you, and a couple of guys. Haven't you noticed?"

"I guess a few have given me some odd looks but...hey, what do you mean by a couple of guys?"

"Carlos, that paralegal, has had his eyes on you for quite a while, a Mr Hot-Shot-Lawyer like you," Connie continued to joke. "Oh, Mike I'm just messing with you. Hey, McCoy said that he wants us to go over this case with him tomorrow, and feels that we're going to nail this one." She changed the subject.

"Okay, I'll bring the witness statements I was going over."

"Good," she replied. "Oh, and Mike don't worry about Carlos. I've set him up with this dentist I know."

Mike laughed back.

After speaking with Connie, he headed towards his lounge room and slumped into the couch in front of the TV, relieved that he had the night off for once. He flicked on his favourite program, Boston Legal.

Rachel climbed up the piping and peeped through the window once again, and watched Mike fall asleep in the couch.

**How do you like it so far? Feel free to review, as it will help me with my next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I uploaded the second chapter. Hope y'all like!**

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Law and Order' or Laura Jones. Carlos and Holly Peterson are mine.

**Next day at the D.A's office.**

Mike strolled into work, his briefcase in one hand and the New York Times in the other. He had a slight glimmer in his eyes, with a sense of hope.

_It's going to be a good day today_, he convinced himself.

The sun was shining, the newspaper-stand had opened early, he was an inch away from a slam dunk case, and to top it all off, his mechanic had just informed him that she would have his car battery replaced by that afternoon.

_The stars have certainly done a one-eighty on me. _

He approached the administration office to check with Carlos, the D.A's paralegal, what time the Harley trial was taking place.

A flamboyantly dressed man looked up at Mike from his desk, his blonde streaked highlights standing out in contrast with his natural black underneath. He smiled up at him brightly. "Well good morning, Mr. Cutter," he said with a hint of a Latino accent, and slightly flirtatious.

"Um, good morning, Carlos," Mike replied, feeling a little self-conscious.

"You are looking more handsome than ever, Mr. Cutter," he added cheekily. _Woo, if the boys down the club got a glimpse of you Honey,_ he thought to himself. "Is that a new suit you're wearing?"

"Well, yes, Carlos it is thanks for noticing," he answered with a friendly smile, being liberal minded. _He's just being nice_, he thought. "You wouldn't happen to know what time today's trial is taking place, would you."

Carlos consulted the computer monitor in front of him, scrolling down the page. "Yes I do, it is at eleven-o'clock this morning."

"Thank you Carlos," he said heading down the corridor to his office.

"Not a problem," he replied, peeping out of the doorway to take another look at Mike's behind.

Mike continued to make his way down the corridor to his office, until he was stopped by a smartly dressed blonde woman holding a Laura Jones brief case.

"Good morning, Mr. Cutter," she said, holding out her free hand in a friendly handshake. "I'm Holly Peterson."

"Good morning," he replied coherently, though slightly perplexed. He shook her hand returning the gesture. "Have we met?"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't really call our little bingle on the subway a meeting as such," she replied in her distinct English accent. "It was more of an outburst really."

Mike didn't quite understand what she was getting at.

"I'm the social worker you fell on yesterday," she reminded him. "On the subway."

"Oh right," he remembered. "You were the one who accused me of sexual harassment." He didn't recognise her at first.

"I've come to apologise," she said, referring to the incident that had occurred the day before. "What I said was way out of line, so I am sorry for what happened, and if I have defamed you in any way I apologise. I was wrong to accuse you."

_Things just keep getting better. _"Na, that's okay. I really should have been watching where I was going, or more to the point, what I was holding onto," he smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, you should have," she answered seriously. "But humans make mistakes, and if anyone should know that it is me, and so there is no excuse for my behaviour."

"It was just one of those days." He put a hand in his pocket and looked at the floor. "It's great that you came to apologise. Many wouldn't have done." He looked up at her sincerely.

"I just thought it would be the decent thing to do, especially in my position." She reached into her blazer pocket and handed him a card. "Here's my card for the agency I run. If you guys need anything, you let us know. Think of it as a favour to you."

"Thanks," Mike replied. "This is more than generous. Will do."

She then turned on her heel, but stopped when Mike caught her up.

"Hey, Ms Peterson, you want to go out for coffee some time, or maybe a baseball game, if you're into that kind of thing?"

She stopped to consider it. "Um, okay. I could do that."

Mike then watched her quickly stop to speak to Carlos before she headed further down the hall.

Jack observed idly from his office doorway, and then approached the young attorney from behind. "Pretty popular with the ladies, hey Mike," he joked. "Taking a leaf out of my book?"

Mike nearly jumped out of his skin. "Oh, just someone I know from social services," he answered.

"Ah ha," Jack replied disbelieving, a sardonic grin spreading across his face. He handed Mike an envelope. "This came for you earlier."

"Um okay?" he answered casually, taking it from the older man's hand and sliding it into his jacket pocket. "Probably the photos Bernard and Lupo were going to give me for the trial."

"You know, Ms. Peterson's pretty good friends with Carlos, they go way back," Jack resumed.

"Really?" Mike replied, slightly wistful, peering down the hallway as Holly Peterson exited the double doors at the end.

"Oh yes." Jack returned to his office, chuckling to himself scornfully. _Back when used to be Mr Peterson._

***

Mike and Connie walked down the long row of steps from the courthouse.

"You know, today just keeps getting better and better," Mike said cheerfully, as they both past a flock of paparazzi and reporters. "We put that bastard right where he belongs, in jail!"

"Twenty-five- years, can't get it any more just than that." Connie smiled, equally pleased. "You were great in there, Mike," she said.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Connie," he protested. "You knew how to put the pieces together, and you're a great analysis for the truth."

They stopped at the bottom of the steps. "It's so good to see you smile, Mike. I haven't seen you this happy in a long while."

Mike shrugged. "Things are just going my way for once."

They continued to stride along the sidewalk on the main street.

"Well, I think we should celebrate. Why don't we go get one of those frappe lattes from the Barrister Barista," she suggested. "My shout."

"Good idea," he agreed. "I'm up to my tenth purchase on my coffee card, so we can get one free."

They waited in a long line of lawyers at the Barrister Barista, cued in front of the counter.

"Those photographs of the victim's injuries that Bernard and Lupo produced last minute really put the icing on the cake, don't you think?" said Connie. "But the judge wasn't too pleased that you couldn't explain them accurately, though."

"Good thing you stepped up then isn't it? Good save, Connie," Mike replied. He thought for a moment, and then it hit him. _Oh God, I completely forgot about that envelope Jack gave me, _he thought, frantically searching his pockets.

Mike pulled out the small envelope he had been searching for.

"What's that you've got?"

"Oh, it's the photos that Lupo and Bernard had, well duplicates anyway. I forgot to analyse them before we went into court. No wonder I couldn't explain them."

"You still managed to convince the jury, Mike. There's no need to harp on it now." She patted him on the back. "We won."

He opened the envelope downwards and removed a piece of paper that was inside it. A handful of rose petals fell to the floor in a fluttery manner. "Hey, these aren't... _What the hell?"_

Connie was amused by her colleague's surprised expression.

He looked inside the envelope, but there was nothing else in there but more rose petals. "Is this Lupo and Bernard's idea of a sick joke? Where are those photographs?"

"It looks like a note of some kind," Connie said nonchalantly, peering over his shoulder. "And I_ don't_ think it's from Lupo and Bernard. Why don't you just read it and see what it says?"

**Intrigued? I thought I'd wait until the next chapter to throw some more juicy bits in, just to keep the suspense alive. Feel free to review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Mike has read the letter. What happens next? Get ready for Rachel's more shady side.**

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Law and Order.' The characters Sarah, Rachel, and Carlos are mine.

**Post reading the letter.**

Mike and Connie sat at a small round table by the window as they waited for their coffee orders. There was an odd silence between them, each contemplating what they had just taken in.

Connie was the first to speak.

"Who writes things like that?" she queried disgusted. "It's appalling what this so called person has said about you. The things they want to do with you." A revolted expression spread across her face.

Mike was looking down at the table with his hands in his lap. "It's not as bad as all that, Connie," he tried to reason with her solemnly. In actuality, he was really trying to convince himself.

"It's sickening, demeaning, this person seeing you as a sexual object," she continued. "To have someone think of you in this lurid way. That they know so much about you. It makes your skin crawl." She shuddered.

Connie felt threatened by this mysterious letter writer.

Mike gazed distantly out of the window, watching the many people that passed by. "Well, like you said Connie, every second woman in New York is probably lining up to get between the sheets with me, I guess you were right. There are people out there who want to get into my briefs, and not just my legal ones." He made a quick joke.

"It's not funny, Mike," she retorted. "This person wants to use you."

Mike smiled to himself. "I'm actually kind of flattered."

"Flattered?! You should be scared, Mike. This deranged person has obviously been following you. How else would they know such private and intimate details?"

Mike shrugged. "I'm sure whoever wrote it is harmless."

"Better to be safe than sorry," Connie protested. Silently remembering an incident she had once encountered with a certain juror that had stalked her.

"It's probably some sweet, young intern at the D.A's office who has a crush on me, and who is too shy to talk to me," Mike reasoned thoughtfully. "A secret admirer."

"You mean stalker," Connie corrected, conceitedly.

_Stalker? _Mike's thoughts had been broken by her harsh judgement. His playful smile had wiped off his face almost instantly, and had been replaced with a worried scowl. "Actually, that scratching I heard on my Kitchen window, do you think that has anything to do with this?" He began to worry, remembering the conversation they had the night before.

Sarah approached their table laden with their coffee orders, breaking their train of thought.

"Okay, a mocha frappe for you Connie, and a hazelnut deluxe frappe for you, Mike." She placed their drinks on the table in front of them.

"Thanks," Connie and Mike said in unison, now distracted by her presence.

She turned to leave, but stopped when Mike signalled her attention.

"Hey, Sarah, how's it going?" he asked.

She turned to face him, her jet-black pony tail flicking around as she did so.

"I'm fine, Mike, thanks for asking," she answered. "And yourself?"

"Oh, we're fine too," he answered, speaking for Connie as well. "We won a slam dunk case today."

"Congratulations," she replied cheerfully. "Go team Cutter-Rubirosa."

"Hey, is Rachel in today? She usually works this shift."

"Ah, no," Sarah answered. "She's actually off sick today."

"Oh, okay. Could you just tell her that we popped in and said hi? And tell her I hope she feels better soon," he said, giving her a wink.

"Sure thing, Mike. Anything for Rachel's two favourite lawyers."

She turned and walked back behind the counter.

Connie scoffed. "It serves you right having a stalker, Mike. You flirt with nearly every girl outside the DA's office," she said rolling her eyes, before taking a sip from her drink.

Mike's worry worsened. "I guess you're right Connie, about what you said just before. Maybe I _should _be more concerned."

"Just be cautious," she advised wearily. Her face softened as she reached out for his hand. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, Mike," she said, her warm brown eyes touching his stormy blue ones a little too deeply.

He smiled back, not entirely sure how to take her sentiment.

"Maybe it's something we should get Bernard and Lupo to investigate," he said.

"If it will make you feel safe, then I think it's worth a shot," she encouraged.

***

Rachel climbed through the kitchen window of Mike's apartment, careful not to make a noise in case his neighbours heard. She got down from the kitchen counter and looked around. She was in.

This wasn't the first time she had broken into Mike's home. She reminisced the previous times she had entered his apartment without his knowledge, often waiting until he got home, then hiding in some discrete nook. She found it sort of exciting watching his every move and taking snapshots of him with her camera phone, him being none-the-wiser the whole time she had been spying on him.

She walked into the lounge, touching various belongings of his that were placed on shelves, on the mantel piece, and the swanky glass coffee table in the middle of the room, picking them up and feeling them in her hands. She then walked down the hallway to his bedroom.

She rifled through his drawers, his linen closet, and his wardrobe, finding comfort in touching his possessions, knowing that they belonged to him. She took in the scent of his cologne and shampoo that lingered in the air. She often hid in the wardrobe, or underneath the bed, watching him and listening to him breathing while he slept.

She heard a car role up to the curb, and peered out of the window. She watched him get out of his car and make his way to the front entrance of his building.

She returned to the lounge, and ducked behind the large couch against the wall facing the TV.

***

Mike held his blackberry between his neck and shoulder talking to Connie, whilst he juggled a bag full of groceries and his briefcase in one hand, and opening the door to his apartment with the other. He walked through the entrance into his apartment, securely locking the door behind him.

"I don't know Connie, I still feel pretty freaked out about this whole stalker thing," he said honestly.

"Just make sure you lock all your windows and doors," she recommended.

He double checked the tight lock on the door, before making his way into the kitchen.

Rachel had been hiding quietly behind the leather upholstered couch in the lounge room, her pulse racing when she heard his footsteps travel across the room into the kitchen. She heard him continue talking on his blackberry in the next room.

Mike placed his briefcase and bag of groceries on the chrome dining table in the kitchen, before fixing himself a stiff drink.

"Do you think Carlos is behind all this?" Connie suggested. "He has been flirting with you lately, I mean, more than usual."

Mike poured a glass of scotch. "No, I don't think so. I know he's pretty into me, but whoever's pulling this stunt is clearly unstable," he said matter-of-factly. "Carlo's isn't deranged, he's forthright with his feelings, he wouldn't be playing cat and mouse games like this."

"I bet you're just saying that because you hate the possibility that a homosexual man finds you desirable."

Mike paused for a moment. "No, it's not that at all, Connie. I honestly don't think it is Carlos. He may flirt with me, hit on me, but he is not a psychopath."

"This is the work of someone who is deeply disturbed," he continued, sipping his drink. "And I don't think we should jump to any conclusions until Bernard and Lupo have compiled some evidence for us to go by."

Rachel peeped from behind the couch, looking directly into the kitchen, watching Mike as he continued to talk on his blackberry, his back towards her. He had taken his jacket off now, and she couldn't help but notice the muscles in his back and arms flex beneath his crisp white shirt that clung to his sculptured torso.

He took a seat at the table. "I've had a word with Lupo, and he's already looked into previous cases involving this sort of behaviour."

"It seems like a copy-cat crime," Connie mentioned. "They are pretty common. An offender identifies with another offender in some way, and feels the need to carry on their legacy."

Rachel quietly emerged out from behind the couch, keeping her eyes on Mike, making sure he didn't see her, and quickly slipped away into the hallway. She crept into Mike's bedroom, and hid underneath the bed.

***

Sarah glanced over at her weary friend, who cleared up mugs and glasses from tables where customers had been sitting, as she worked the espresso machine.

"Hey, Rachel, are you feeling okay?" she enquired. "You're not still sick from yesterday, are you?"

Rachel placed the mugs and glasses into the dish washer beneath the counter. "I'm completely alright," she replied.

"You sure? Because you seem pretty tired," she pressured, chewing her gum loudly. "Law school getting to you?"

Rachel closed the door of the dishwasher. "Well, I was up all night finishing a paper, so that must be it," she lied.

Sarah nodded understanding.

Rachel looked at her wrist watch. "It's only a couple of minutes until our break," she said, filling the espresso machine with fresh coffee grounds. "I was heading up to the DA's office to drop in some coffee for Mike and Connie."

"Na," she replied. "But I'll walk with you. I need to buy a pack of smokes."

_A long black for Mike and a Vanilla skinny latte for Connie,_ Rachel thought to herself, preparing their drinks.

**What do think? Reviews most welcome?**


	4. Chapter 4

**I've uploaded the fourth chapter. The cops finally make and entrance.**

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Law and Order' and its characters. Carlos, Sarah, Rachel Conner, and Holly Peterson are mine.

**The DA's office.**

The sun gleamed into Mike's office window, reflecting off the few hints of grey speckles through his sandy hair. He propped his feet on his desk whilst he spoke to Bernard on his blackberry.

"How's Anita holding up?" He enquired after the lieutenant.

"She's getting there," Bernard replied. "Just a couple more rounds of chemo to go, and she should be on a good road to recovery."

"That's good to hear," Mike replied sincerely. "Did she get those flowers I sent her?"

"Yes she did. She was very thankful. Lady Dianna's are her Favourite, you know?"

"Yeah, I thought so."

"You had better be careful, Mike. Or next time she sees you, she just might put her hands down your pants," Bernard joked crudely. "You seem to have that affect on a lot of women. What's your secret Bro'?"

Mike chuckled. "I don't know what it is Bernard. I guess it's my tailored suits and my new-age technology that keeps them keen," he answered. "If you want the girls, you should consider becoming a lawyer."

Bernard laughed. "No way, man, I'm not goin' back to school."

Mike sighed. "Well, in regards to being popular, all I can say at the moment is be careful what you wish for," he advised. "With all of this stalking that's been going on, my luck with the ladies is finally turning on me."

Bernard had suddenly remembered the reason why he had called Mike in the first place.

"Oh, Mike, I was meant to tell you. Lupo and I have been researching previous stalker cases involving this sort of thing, and we've uncovered some credible information that I think the DA's office would be very interested to know about."

Mike removed his feet from his desk and put them back on the floor, his attention sharpening. "Let's hear it."

"We've come up with a lot," he replied. "Actually, we've got some really interesting things to show you. We'll head over sometime today. Twelve suit?"

"Twelve's fine. Thanks Bernard, see you then."

"Catcha, Bro'."

Connie walked into the room, plonking her briefcase on the floor beside her desk.

"Morning Mike."

"Morning Connie," he replied, rubbing his tired eyes.

Connie removed her laptop from her briefcase, and began to set it up at her desk. "I couldn't help but over here, Lupo and Bernard already found something on this stalker business?"

"Yeah, they have evidently. They'll be running over it with us this afternoon, Bernard said."

"Well that's a relief." Connie approached Mike's desk, taking a pen from his pencil holder. "Sorry, just stealing your pen for a moment."

"Well, I hope I sleep easier tonight."

She tilted her head to the side. "I do too," she said, smiling cheekily. "A few extra wrinkles and a bit of grey hair may make you appear more sophisticated, but bags are definitely not your look, Mike."

Mike's eyes widened. "Grey hair? What grey hair?" He demanded with slight panic in his voice.

Almost frantically, he scrambled for a mirror and peered at his reflection on the metal part of his blackberry.

"God, you're right Connie, I am turning grey," he said. "Looks like I'll have to book another hair appointment."

Connie chuckled to herself, walking back to her desk.

_Guys and their vanity, God help them, _she thought to herself smugly.

Mike looked closer at his face.

_Oh no, those lines weren't there before. I'm getting old. _

"God, I'll be back in diapers and playing bingo before I know it!" Mike dropped his blackberry back on his desk. "You know, I've tried every wrinkle cream in this city, and I tell you, none of them work for me," he complained fed up.

Connie leaned back in her chair.

"How _did_ you sleep last night, Mike?"

"Not very well," he replied disgruntled. "I keep getting this eerie feeling, as though someone is watching me." He shuddered.

"Let's just hope you don't get really heavy bags under your eyes, and have to use that caffeine roll-on stuff?" Connie blurted out. "You know? The one with the commercial with that woman that you say _looks like me_."

"Well, she _does _look like you," Mike protested.

They finished their morning rant, and resumed their office duties for the day.

***

Rachel and Sarah walked briskly along the sidewalk, Rachel carrying a cardboard tray with Mike and Connie's drinks in one hand, and a bag of muffins in the other.

"You're really sweet on this Michael Cutter dude aren't you?" Sarah said, stopping for a moment to spit her purple gum on the pavement. She sped up to catch up with her friend who continued to stride along.

Rachel didn't say anything, pretending not to have heard her.

"Michael Cutter may be full-on, proper old, but there's one good thing I can say about him. I bet he's good in bed," Sarah continued, ranting on. "Middle-aged guys are famous for it. It's all of that experience I suppose."

They got closer to the DA's building.

"You know that friend I was telling you about, Sheila, the one who's with her college professor. They get it off several times a night." she continued on, getting out of breath as she struggled to keep up with Rachel's speedy pace. "Must be all those enhancement meds he takes."

_Too much information, _Rachel thought to herself staring down at the ground, a bit put off by Sarah's larger-than-life comments. _God this girl goes off at the mouth._

"Slow down, man, you're way ahead of me," she said puffing and panting.

_Maybe if you didn't smoke so many cigarettes, your lungs wouldn't feel overburdened. _

Rachel slowed down her pace. "Don't worry we're nearly there."

They reached the outside of the DA's office.

"You go ahead and buy your smokes. I'll catch you up later," Rachel said, entering the front of the building.

"Okay," Sarah replied facing her friend as she continued to walk. "I'll text you tonight."

***

Rachel had travelled up the elevator and down the hall to the DA's administration office.

"Hey, Carlos," she said cheerfully. "Are Mike and Connie in?"

"Why yes, they're just in their office," he smiled back. "Oh, your perfume is lovely, Sweetie. Watch out, girlfriend. Mikey, I mean Mr. Cutter, might set his eyes on _you_."

Rachel giggled. "I sure hope so," she blushed.

Carols laughed back. "Remember, I had my eyes on him first. Oh well, let the best girl win," he sighed dreamily.

Rachel liked Carlos. She found that with his carefree nature and friendly spirit, qualities which she felt were so rare these days, he was the only person she could really be herself around. Except for encountering the striking Michael Cutter, one of the other things she looked forward to whilst travelling to the DA's office was a friendly chat with Carlos. He kind of reminded her of the uncle who had taken her in after both her parents had been sentenced to prison when she was a small child. But then he died suddenly, several years later, as a result of a brutal bashing by a gang of armed thugs. She still found it difficult to wipe the vial images of his limp body slumped over a park bench, blood seeping from his drooping head. And the unsettlement of changing from one family to another through a life of foster care didn't help much either. Carlos brought out the sunshine in her that had been buried deeply by the overwhelming darkness that had filled her life.

She opened the door to Mike and Connie's office.

Mike looked up at her from a case he was reading over.

"Hey, Rachel," he said with a smile, getting out of his desk to greet her. "What brings you here?"

She smiled shyly at him, avoiding his eyes. "I just thought you guys work so hard to keep the city safe, that I'd drop by and bring you some coffee."

"Ah, just what I need," Mike said enthusiastically. "Better than the crap we get here."

"That's so thoughtful of you," Connie joined in, approaching her. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh, I brought you some muffins as well," Rachel answered handing it to Connie.

She looked in the bag. "Blueberry muffins? They're Mike's favourite."

Mike and Connie glanced at each other, impressed by her efforts.

"Well this is really nice of you," Mike said, taking the cups of coffee out of the cardboard tray and handing the vanilla latte to Connie. "Thanks for thinking of us. I hope I'm still around to see you get on the bench some day." He winked at her.

"Yeah, you'll be a whole lot better than the judges we've had lately." Connie took a sip of her drink. "Mm, this is really good coffee," she said, savouring the aromatic flavour.

They both dug into the muffins that she had brought them.

"Speaking of getting old," Connie said. "Mike's worried about his grey hair, but I told him that it makes him look more sophisticated. What do you think Rachel?"

Rachel looked over at Mike, standing with a hand on his hip. "Well, in the courtroom, I guess you want to be taken seriously." She shrugged. "And sophistication is just might do that. At least that's what I think."

Connie laughed. "I agree."

Mike put his nose in the air humorously. "Well I don't care what you guys think, I'm still dying my hair the way I like it," he said obstinately.

Connie broke down in laughter.

"What?" Mike asked.

Connie continued to laugh. "I'm sorry Mike, it's just that you sound like a little kid whose parents won't let him stay up late." She continued to chuckle.

"God, what the hell is in that coffee," he wondered, amused by Connie's sudden change in mood.

Rachel stepped towards the door. "Well, Mr. Cutter, I had better go now, my break's over," she said, reaching for the doorknob. "I'm sure you too are busy."

"Alright Rachel, thanks for the coffee and muffins," he said. "Oh, call me Mike."

She smiled at him coyly. "Okay, Mike, see you. Bye Ms. Rubirosa."

"Oh, call me Connie."

"Okay, bye Connie."

She then quickly left, closing the door behind her.

Mike returned to his desk with his muffin and coffee, watching Connie who was still overtaken by laughter.

"Christ, Connie, it's not that funny."

Mike sat at his desk with a contemplative smile on his face. But he had to admit, there was something about Rachel that seemed to put everyone in high spirits.

Jack knocked on the door, and then entered. "Hey you too, I just caught Rachel. She's a sweet kid, isn't she?"

"Yeah she is," Mike agreed, picking up a baseball of his desk, and tossing it in the air.

"Such a rarity these days," Jack commented. "Of course, all the kids in my day were. These days, all we get are these street rapping punks who vandalise other people's property, and blow up gas stations."

"But you know," Jack continued. "Its young people like Rachel Steiner that make one yearn for more grandchildren." He sighed distantly.

Connie still had the giggles.

"Hey, what's her problem?" Jack asked, referring to Connie's hysteria.

"I don't know. I think it might be Rachel," Mike answered. "There's just something about her that makes everyone happy."

***

Lupo and Bernard entered Mike and Connie's office.

"Hey, did you bring the stuff you wanted to show me."

"We sure did," Bernard said, placing a large box on the round table to the side.

Mike got out of his desk and approached the table to investigate.

"Hey, where's Connie?" Lupo enquired.

Mike slipped on a pair of rubber clubs and lifted the lid off the box. "Oh, um, she's gone to the bathroom," he said, curious of the content inside the cardboard box.

They both noticed he seemed a little distracted.

Mike looked down at the open box. A serious look spread across his face. "Hey, these are all pictures of me!" he said with shock, the colour in his face draining.

Lupo and Bernard exchanged concerned glances.

"We know," said Lupo. "You definitely have stalker," he sighed, sounding peeved.

"The good news is that we are fairly certain who your stalker is," Bernard added matter-of-factly.

Mike pulled out the enlarged snapshots from the box.

There were pictures of him walking out of court, in the court lobby, at the newspaper-stand, the grocery store, the Barrister Barista. There were even pictures of him at the batting cages.

"Oh my God," he said in shock. He felt his legs begin to tremble.

Bernard and Lupo were both saying something to him, but his mind wouldn't take it in. He was fixated on what was in front of him.

There were a dozen more pictures in the box that particularly caught his attention. They were photographs of him in his home. They showed him watching TV, reading, playing canasta on his computer, sleeping. Just about everywhere in his apartment. He shuddered at the last few that showed him sitting on the toilet, shaving at the basin, changing for work. He even found a pair of underwear folded in the corner of the box. He knew they were his.

_This abhorrent individual had been in his home!_

Mike slumped in the chair behind him, overwhelmed, his legs unable to hold him up any longer. He dropped a couple of the pictures that were in his hands onto the floor.

Connie entered the room.

"Hey guys," she greeted Bernard and Lupo.

The two detectives turned to face her, as she made her way over to them.

"Hey Connie," said Bernard.

She approached the box, looking inside. "Oh my God. They're all pictures of Mike." Her mouth dropped to the ground, as she too slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and began to investigate. She felt her knees begin to buckle also.

"That's not all we found," said Lupo, pulling out a tape recorder and pressing the play button.

"_I don't know Connie, I still feel pretty freaked out about this whole stalker thing."_

_(Lock snaps shut, footsteps)_

"_No, I don't think so. I know he's pretty into me, but whoever's pulling this stunt is clearly unstable."_

_(Bottles clunk together, cupboard door closes)_

"_Carlo's isn't deranged, he's forthright with his feelings, he wouldn't be playing cat and mouse games like this."_

Lupo pressed the stop button on the tape recorder.

Connie's eyes widened. "That's the conversation Mike and I had last night."

Lupo pressed the rewind button, and they all listened.

_(Bed sheets ruffle)_

"_Oh yeah, baby, talk dirty to me," _theman's voice said. It was Mike.

_(Bed sheets ruffle)_

"_I'm going to tear off all your clothes and sit on your long, hard..." _a woman's voice replied_._

Mike sprung to the voice recorder and pressed the stop button, cutting off the rest of the conversation.

_Enough, ENOUGH! _Mike shouted inside his head.His pride had been shattered enough for one day.

He paused before he spoke. "That was my date from last week," he confessed shamefully, his finger still on the voice recorder.

The room was silent for a moment. They could sense the pain and vulnerability that Mike was feeling.

Bernard was first to break the silence.

"Connie, could I borrow you laptop for a moment?" he asked, trying to devoid everyone from Mike's embarrassment.

"Yes, it's right over here." She led Bernard to her desk.

He quickly logged onto the internet and typed in a web address.

Lupo joined Connie Bernard, all three of them surrounding the computer.

Mike just sat in his chair, staring into space, still in shock.

A webpage opened.

"Cute-shot ," Connie read out loud.

There, posted on this website's homepage, were several pictures of Mike, very much like the ones they had found in the box.

"Come visit the hottest attorney on this side of New York City," Bernard read.

"He's the regional hard-ass in more way than one," Lupo joined in.

All three of them glanced over at Mike.

***

**Half an hour later.**

"Well, we have been winning a lot of cases lately," Connie mentioned. "Not just slam-dunks. Even the ones we were bound to lose, we ended up winning. Perhaps jurors stumbled across this website when conducting a background check on Mike, and saw the pictures. They thought he was hot, which may have subsequently influenced their verdict."

"Yeah, well I'm sure there are a lot of people out there having a good laugh, as well," Mike replied disgruntled, pacing around the room, making broad strokes through the air with his baseball bat. "The EADA who can't keep his pants on."

Connie had never seen him so distressed.

Mike turned to face Bernard and Lupo. "You mentioned you know who did this?" He rested his baseball bat on his shoulder.

Lupo walked closer towards him. "Have you ever heard of a young woman by the name of Rachel Conner?"

Mike and Connie swapped bewildered glances, and then looked back at the detectives.

"Yes," Mike replied. "She's our coffee girl."

"In fact, she brought Connie and Mike coffee and muffins this morning," Jack chimed in. He's eyes went soft and distant. "God, those muffins were good."

"We did some research on previous cases, and found that this same woman has stalked over six other males aged between thirty-five and fifty throughout her adolescence. Charges have been dropped in the past due to her age," Lupo continued. "In the exact same manner as you, Mike. Following them, taking photographs, sneaking around inside their homes."

"It seems that she has a fetish for the _older_ gentleman," Bernard added bluntly.

"We tracked down records dating back to the early nineties," Lupo explained. "And found that both of her parents have been incarcerated for drug possession and temps of murder. Her father was killed in a prison knife fight four years ago. And her mother was administered to an asylum for the criminally insane in 1996, and resided there up until her death of a drug overdose in 2001."

Lupo pressed on. "Conner had been placed in the care of her mother's brother, Thomas Griffin, before being held in the care of the state through the foster care system, following_ his_ murder in 1995, moving from home to home."

"Studies show that children who are brought up in unstable homes, or who are continuously placed in varying environments, seek the approval of people who are of high status or authority throughout their lives. These people are generally found to be significantly older than the individual." Bernard explained. "They often seek this approval through certain relationships, and they often subconsciously regard lovers in the same way they would toward parental figures."

"Which would explain her attraction to Mike," Jack concluded.

"Exactly," Bernard replied.

"In Rachel Conner's case, she has had no permanence in any of her relationships throughout her childhood, and there have been various reports of neglect and abuse inflicted upon her by several of her foster parents. These have evidently had a profound effect on her ability to trust, causing her to be unable to form basic relationships," Lupo continued.

"Which would explain why she has the need to stalk those she has become attached to, rather than forming healthy relationships with them. Fear of disapproval and rejection," Connie added. "In her eyes, this is the safest way to get close to someone. All the perks, without the baggage."

Mike began to feel sick.

"So you're telling me that Rachel is my stalker. The girl who pours my coffee each morning?" His baseball bat slipped from his hands, and clunked to the flour.

"That's right, Mike," Lupo said seriously. "People are certainly not what they seem."

"I've come across cases like this many times," Jack piped up. He waltzed over to Mike. "It's always the person you least expect."

_So, you son of a bitch, you've been dubbed the dirty DA of the decade? What are you going to do about it? _Jack thought deprecatingly.

Mike felt his stomach lurch, and he bolted from the room into the hallway to find the restroom, his hand covering his mouth.

"Mike..." Connie called after him, following him to the doorway.

"No, let him be," Jack cut her off. He took her hand in his. "He just needs some space."

She turned to face him, her head bowed. She felt tears pricking the brims of her eyes, and running down her cheeks. She had never let anyone see her cry at work before.

"He just seems so confused and vulnerable," she said, beginning to sob. "I've never seen a side of him like this."

_Oh, shut up Connie, you blubbering idiot, _she thought to herself.

"It's alright Connie," Jack reassured her. "Just give him some time."

***

Mike walked down the steps of the building, his hands in his jacket pockets. He needed some air.

His blackberry in his pants pocket started to ring, its playful tune interrupting his thoughts.

"Michael Cutter," he answered, putting the device to his ear.

"Hi, Michael. It's Holly Peterson."

"Oh hey, how are you?" Michael asked, trying to keep his mind off what just happened in the office.

"I'm rather well," Holly replied. "Hey, I just rang you to see if you were doing anything right now."

"No? No, I'm not doing anything right now," Mike answered.

"Good, because I've got a break right now, and I was wandering, do you want to get that coffee we discussed yesterday?"

"Oh, don't talk about coffee," Mike pleaded. "That's the last thing I want to think about."

There was a pause.

"O-kay," Holly answered, a little confused by the tone in Mike's voice. "How about we go to a pub, or a bar, as you Americans call it?"

"Now you're talking my language," Mike answered.

_I could do with a hard one after the day I've had, _he thought to himself.

"Great, how about I meet you at Gordy's Bar in say... ten minutes."

"Ten minutes is fine," Mike said. "See you then."

A friendly catch up was just what he needed to clear his head.

**What do you think? Feel free to review. **

Mike changed the subject. "I was meant to ask how'd you and Lupo go researching info on those stalker cases?"

"We've come up with a lot," he replied. "Actually, we've got some really interesting things to show you. We were going to head over there sometime today."

"That's good news. Hope to see you then."

"Okay, catcha Bro'."

Connie


	5. Chapter 5

**I updated... finally!! In this chapter, let's just say Mike gets to know Holly Peterson a little better, and the cops get down to some good old fashioned investigating. Heaps of drama, Enjoy.**

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Law & Order', nor do I own its characters. Rachel Conner, and Holly Peterson are mine.

The atmosphere of Gordy's Bar was rowdy but cheerful, with people's laughter and glasses clinking together in the background. Bottles clanked, and a rather tubby barman wiped down the counter as he gave regular customers psychological advice. It was the sort of place one could forget their troubles for an hour and soak up the friendly vibe, as well as a few drinks. And that was just what Mike was doing now, to be rid of his troubles.

"So, I was running for the ball, and all of a sudden, I felt myself begin to slip..." Mike began.

"Oh, no, no," Holly answered, half laughing.

"Oh, yes. I landed flat on my back, and got covered in mud."

"I bet your mom wasn't impressed by that." She took a sip of her drink.

"Not in the slightest," he replied, finishing the last of his drink. "But, I caught the ball, and we made it to the finals."

"Well that's good to here," Holly replied, chuckling. She changed the subject. "Hey, you know Mike, I've got tickets to the game this weekend."

"Really, that's great?"

She reached for his hand, and smiled at him flirtatiously. "Front row seats."

"Wow, for _this week's game_, how'd you nab those?" he asked excitedly.

"Let's just say I have connections, and I know how to work them." She looked down, her smile transforming into a wry grin.

Mike was really becoming quite fond of this enigmatic woman, the events of the day pushing further and further into the back of his mind.

She called for the bartender's attention, and ordered another round of drinks.

"_Hey, Gordy, another Tequila Sunrise, and a scotch for the gentleman!"_

"Coming right up," the podgy man replied.

Mike looked into his empty glass. "So, your job must be pretty interesting, ha?"

"Yeah, it's worthwhile, and rewarding in some ways. Well, most of the time anyway," she replied. "So you're EADA? That must be really interesting too."

Suddenly, Mike's blackberry started to ring again. He looked down at the number of the person who was calling him. He recognised Lupo's number.

_God, can't I get a moment's piece from these people, _he thought begrudgingly. He switched his blackberry off.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologised to Holly. "Just a work-buddy trying to get onto me. I'll call him later, it can't be that important. You were saying?"

"Ah, yes, um, I said your job must be pretty interesting," she repeated.

"Yeah." He sighed, sounding deflated. "I've always thought it was rewarding to give back to the community, protect the defenceless, put perpetrators in their place."

"Well, it's we public servants who take you DA's garbage out to the curb, don't you forget that," she joked.

She turned serious for a moment. "For someone who finds their job so rewarding, you don't sound very enthused," she observed.

Mike looked up at her, suddenly appearing weary. "I don't know. After putting in all that hard work and fourteen-hour-days into a case, it sometimes leaves you thinking, is it all worth it?"

The bartender served them their third tray of drinks, and then waddled back behind the bar.

They each grabbed their drink from the tray, their hands brushing against each other's.

Mike couldn't help but notice the softness of Holly's milky skin.

"What do you mean, Mike?" she asked concerned. "Has something bothered you?"

Mike sighed. "It's this new case we're working on. Well, it's not really a case. It's more of a situation, as you may put it.

"Oh, I see."

Mike continued on, telling her about the whole stalker fiasco.

***

"So, the detectives brought this box that was found in abandoned warehouse, into the office. It wasn't until we investigated the photos, which were inside the box, we realized that this was some real serious trouble we're dealing with," Mike finished off.

"Hmm, well it certainly does sound like the typical stalker case," Holly answered. She paused for a moment, not sure if she fully caught the name Mike had mentioned. "You did say that this young woman's name was _Rachel_, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he replied, a little curious as to why her name was so significant.

"Rachel Conner?" she asked, her voice serious. She had turned quite stern.

"Yes, Rachel Conner," Mike replied, surprised to find that Holly could identify the suspect in question with the brief description he had just given her. "How did you know? You know her?"

Holly took another sip of her drink, and then put it down again, taking her time to reply to Mike's question.

"I was Rachel Conner's case manager for seven years, while she was within the foster care system," she explained. She looked up at him, her sea-green eyes shifting to a dusky olive. "She has a dark past, Mike."

***

Holly had been giving Mike details about Rachel Conner's past, the backdrop that influenced her motives.

"The abuse she had encountered during her time within foster care, I don't even want to repeat, the thought that this was happening within our own department." She appeared revolted. "We were all aware of there being some problems within these homes, but we figured that she was just having trouble settling in, especially with the grief she had incurred prior. It wasn't until she had graduated from our care, and we found a log she kept, that we realised what was going on. It was then too late. We lost track of her."

"We never would have suspected Rachel in the first place," Mike mentioned. "She seemed so innocent, and sweet. The girl who poured our coffee."

"She has a juvenile record of similar crimes," she said deadpan. She sighed. "It's always the one's you least expect."

"That's exactly what Jack said."

***

After spending an hour with Holly Peterson at Gordy's Bar, Mike figured he had better head back to the DA's office, now that he had processed his thoughts a little.

He was startled by the man who was walking towards him. As he entered into his full visual range, he realized it was Bernard.

"Hey, Mike," he called.

When they both reached each other, Mike noticed the concerned look on Bernard's face.

"I just met up with a friend to clear my head," Mike explained. He noticed Bernard wasn't interested in what he was saying, and seemed rather anxious to say the least. "Bernard, did you hear what I said."

"It's Connie," he blurted out. "She's passed out and she's now in a Coma."

Mike's mouth dropped. What was Bernard talking about? What did he mean Connie was in a Coma?

"After you left, she collapsed into a seizure, and went into anaphylactic shock," he explained, frantic. "The paramedics have arrived, they've checked her vital sins, and they should be wheeling her into the ambulance any minute."

Mike walked alongside Bernard, as they swiftly walked the two blocks to the DA's office.

Mike's eyes widened with shock. "This can't be happening. _How did this happen?"_

"They're not completely sure," Bernard answered honestly. "But Jack mentioned something about coffee and muffin's that Rachel Conner brought you guys this morning, and that there's a possibility that she laced Connie's with some alkaline-based toxin, that caused her neurological system to shut down."

Mike's head was whirling with confusion.

"Did you notice Connie act strangely this morning at all?" Bernard enquired curiously.

Mike's mind directed back to that morning after Connie had taken a sip of her latte. She had been in fits of giggles after Rachel had left, and he had wandered if the fresh coat of varnish on the floorboards of the DA's office had caused an hallucinogen affect. But it had subsided quickly afterwards, and he didn't think much of it.

"Actually, now that you mention it, she did behave rather strangely this morning after drinking that coffee," Mike explained. "Jack can concur, he noticed it as well."

"Well, this is a clear sign of the typical possessiveness found in the run-of-the-mill stalker. Rachel probably saw Connie as the main obstruction in winning your affections, and figured that something had to be done about her," Bernard continued. "Lupo collected the discarded coffee cups and paper bag found in the trash can in your office, and has sent them off to pathology. We should receive the results in a few hours."

They reached the outside of the DA's office, where a crowd of fellow employees surrounded an ambulance.

Mike felt rage fill through him. "Why didn't anyone contact me about Connie?" he demanded.

"We did," Bernard retorted turning around to face him. "Lupo called you earlier, but you switched your phone off."

Mike silently cursed himself, remembering.

"We'll need a warrant to search Rachel Conner's place," he told Mike.

Two paramedics emerged from the crowd, wheeling Connie's lifeless body into the ambulance, Jack following behind. He joined Mike and Bernard.

Mike wanted to burst out and race to Connie's aid, but he couldn't. It was as though his legs had been drilled firmly into the ground. He felt his stomach in his mouth, knowing that was nothing he could do, _he_ wasn't a paramedic.

The three of them stood helplessly as they watched the two medics get into the ambulance and drive off into the distance.

**What do you think? Reviews are most welcome.**

**(And in case you were wondering, don't worry; I'm not cruel enough to let Connie die!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Mike has problems dealing with the emotional remnants of what has happened, and a confrontation with Jack causes him to question the feelings he may harbour for Connie. More is revealed about Holly Peterson's past. Enjoy!! **

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Law and Order' and its characters. Carlos, Holly Person, and Rachel Conner are mine.

Rating: T, adult themes and language.

**2 days later**

Mike hated hospitals. The sterile smell of antiseptic, and the sight of the cold liniment floor, which was usually presented in an off blue or grey shade, always set his teeth on edge. He could hear the distinct murmur of nurses gossiping amongst themselves behind the reception desk, something about an oncologists fraternising with one of his patients.

_God, don't health professionals have more important things to discuss?_

Mike watched Connie forlornly through the glass of the ICU unit in which she was placed.

Her body was lifeless, a withered shell, as she lay unconscious in her hospital bed.

Mike heard footsteps walking up the corridor. He looked up to see Lupo and Bernard make their way towards him.

They nodded in greeting, acknowledging each parties' presence.

Lupo noticed the helpless and bewildered guise in Mike's expression. His eyes reflected those of a small child who had just dropped his ice-cream on the pavement.

Mike stared down at his feet. "They found a lethal quantity of the drug ketamine in her system, which is commonly used in horse tranquiliser," Mike informed them solemnly. "The doctors say she's in a metabolic coma. She may never come out of it."

There was an odd silence between them, coldness in the air.

Bernard cleared his throat. "Lupes and I have searched Conner's apartment with the warrant issued," he stated.

Mike slid his hands into his pants pockets, and turned to face them. "So, what have you guys found?" he enquired softly.

Lupo swallowed before he broke the brief silence. "We discovered a small vile of clear liquid stored in her dresser," he began. "We sent it off for testing and results came up positive. Ketamine."

"We also got the results back from those coffee cups that we sent. The cup which contained traces of Connie's DNA came back positive for the drug too," Bernard added.

Bernard sighed. "We also found numerous snapshots, similar to those found in that box abandoned in the warehouse, and on that website," he continued. "The base of that website was also located at Rachel Conner's apartment."

Mike glanced back up at them. "What about Rachel? Has she been arrested?"

Lupo glanced at Connie through the glass, before fixing his eyes back on Mike. He paused before he spoke. "She's done a runner," he replied simply. "She cannot be traced anywhere as yet."

"It seems she that has come to the realization that she is a wanted woman," Bernard cut in.

Mike stared down, his eyes fixated on something on the floor. "I just want Connie to wake up," he answered softly, avoiding eye contact. "And for the right people to be put in jail."

Lupo nodded understandingly. "We're doing our best."

Bernard placed a sympathetic hand on Mike's shoulder. "Just keep the faith," he advised him gently.

Lupo glanced back at Connie. The sight of all the tubes running through her body, keeping her afloat, and the beeping sound of the heart monitor sent an eerie chill down his spine. "I think it's best if, you try to keep your mind off things for now," Lupo advised. He glanced back at Mike. "You don't want to wear yourself out."

Mike sighed. "Well, I have a date tonight, with this woman I've sort of been seeing. I've considered cancelling it," he said deadpan. "With all that's been going on."

Mike had planned another date with Holly Peterson the day before, and he had to admit, he wasn't completely with it when they had made the arrangements. He was trying to push the events of the incident out of his mind, and focus on other things going on in his life, but that only made him feel all the more guilty.

"That's something positive," Bernard answered optimistically. He paused. "I think getting out is just what you need. What we _all_ need."

The two detectives then left.

"Take care," Lupo said to Mike, glancing back at him, as he and Bernard walked down the long corridor of the hospital ward.

Mike turned his attention back to Connie.

He heard more footsteps approaching him in the distance, this time from behind.

"Should have just told her Mike," Jack said, as he stood beside hm. "Now it seems too late."

Mike shot a puzzled look at Jack. "Told who what?" he asked, a little angered. He was in no mood for haughty mind-games, least of all from his boss.

Jack turned to face Mike. "Told Connie that you love her," he answered simply.

Mike's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

An amused expression spread across his face. "Come off it Mike. Don't think I haven't noticed those looks you've given her," Jack scoffed.

Mike stared him up and down, stunned.

"And don't think I haven't noticed the looks she's given you. She has feelings for you too. I'm sure she does."

**A La Carte, Fine Wine and Dining, 8:00pm**

Holly took Mike's hand in hers as they approached the reservation desk.

"Table for two, under the names of Cutter and Peterson," Holly told the host.

He scrolled through the reservation booklet in front of him. "Ah, yes, right this way ma'am," he answered, leading them to a table at the back of the restaurant.

They both took their seats.

"A waiter will be with you shortly," he informed them, before returning to the reservation desk.

Mike stared down at the elegantly dressed table. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bury Jack's words away from his mind.

'_Come off it Mike, don't think I haven't noticed those looks you have given her.'_

Mike didn't even think he felt that way about Connie. Not until after what had happened. And he couldn't believe that any feelings that he may have harboured had been returned by her.

'_She has feelings for you too. I'm sure she does.'_

He reflected back on all those noteable sentiments she had said to him in the past.

'_You were great in there, Mike. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, Mike. You have great legs too, Mike.'_

Another thing that Mike couldn't keep his mind off was the way Connie reacted in response to that seemingly innocent letter that had been left for him by Rachel Conner. She was jealous. Jack's words had made perfect sense.

Holly Peterson's voice suddenly broke his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Holly asked him, concerned. "You're quiet tonight."

Mike didn't want to discuss the events he had encountered the past few days.

He gave her a brave smile. "I'm okay," he assured her. He sighed, peeved. "It's just this case I'm working on..."

Mike noticed a spritely Hispanic looking man behind Holly, approaching their table. It was Carlos.

"Oh my god, Holly and Mike? Fancy bumping into you guys here," he gushed cheerfully.

Holly turned and looked up at him. "Hey, Carlos," she said with a warm smile.

Carlos glanced at Mike. "Holly and I have been best friends since high school," he informed Mike. He looked at the two of them. "Don't tell me you two are dating?"

"You could say that," Mike answered with a forced smile.

"What are you doing here, Carlos?" Holly asked. "Are you on a date as well?"

"I most certainly am," he replied. "I'm herewith that dentist Connie from the DA's office set me up with, Dr Dale."

"That's good to hear. I'm glad you're back into the dating-game," Holly mentioned. "So, where is this Dr Dale you speak of?"

Carlos rested his arm on the back of Holly's chair. "Oh, he's just gone to the bathroom."

Mike stood from his chair. "I'll go to the bar and get a drinks menu, shall I?" He left the table, feeling a little out f the loop, and headed to the bar.

Carlos's eyes followed Mike until he reached the bar. He leaned into Holly.

"Does he know yet?"

Holly's eyes widened. "Know what?"

Carlos rolled his eyes overtly. "You know what I mean Holly." He lowered his voice. "Have you told him about that _transition_ you made several years ago?"

She looked away. "No, not yet," she replied quietly, a hint of shame in her voice.

Carlos sighed exasperated. "You had better tell him sooner than later. It's not fair to keep stringing him along like this."

"I know." She glanced back at Carlos, a look of defeat in her eyes. "It's just so hard to find a guy who will be accepting of this."

Carlos tutted. "Holly, he's Michael Cutter, for god's sake. He'll find out one way or another," he warned her, his voice serious yet gentle. He glanced back over at Mike, who was now making his way back to his and Holly's table.

"I just want to see where it goes, first," Holly reasoned.

"It's up to you to either tell him, or just break it off," Carlos advised her. "It's your soul."

**What do you think? Feel free to review!**


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